Four
by Jomagaher
Summary: /TMNT 2k12-based. What-If/ Four shattered souls strive to live in a world filled with cruelty and infamy. Misery separates them, making them believe the sole survivors of the family misfortune. During their struggle for survival, will they reunite again, or will they succumb to the obstacles ahead?
1. Prologue: Anguish (L-I)

**Disclaimer:** TMNT doesn´t belong to me. It´s all from Peter Laird and Kevin Eastman, and also Nickelodeon.

* * *

 _So great was the extremity of his pain and anguish, that he did not only sigh but roar._

Matthew Henry

 **-PROLOGUE: ANGUISH –**

"So…" The deep metallic voice that was already so familiar reverberated again on the other side "Are you still refusing my offer?"

The being who wanted to obtain an answer didn't move, neither answered. He was too weak, too fragile to move by himself. His captor took his silence as a no.

"So be it" His cape caressed the ground, raising dust, while he turned around and walked to the exit. Before closing the door, he added without looking at him "I wonder how much time you'd be able to stand it"

After the steel door closed with a big rumble sound, all became silence; but the captive didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore.

 _Cold._

That was the last thing he would feel when his soul finally abandoned the living world. Since the first moment he got into that cell abruptly, he tried to fight to get through those tough bars that stood in front of him, keeping him from freedom in a menacing way. In spite of the fact that his mind was clouded, he was still able to remember that there was a moment when he refused death with all his might. He cried, hit the walls, and even pulled the bars as strong as he could so as to get out of there. However, all that fight was worthless.

He opened his eyes. Those blue eyes whose shine was about to vanish. Since too much time ago, he had lost count of how many days was he trapped. It took time for him to avoid misty vision and focus his sight, and even more time to realise he was still laid on the ground, lying on his side and curled up. He tried to keep the little corporal heat he still had, but the humidity and cold had no mercy. There wasn't any blanket to wrap around him neither nor light to envelop him in its heat. Nothing at all.

His stomach roared, again. But he knew there was nothing to eat. He was trapped there until he took a decision, or died before it.

Who was he? Why was he there?

It was increasingly difficult for him to remember the past, moments when he was truly happy. He held those memories with his heart in his mouth. The mental images, which were more and more blurred, represented the only proof that demonstrated he was once a living being, not just an empty shell made of flesh and bones.

He closed his eyes, just trying to witness it all again.

 _A sky blue look seemed to smile at him as he entered the living room. It got close and embraced him with a hug full of energy. He could feel his heart beating lively against his own heart. He responded to that sweet peculiar gesture by getting even closer. The time flowing and the situation didn't matter as often as that radiant smile that could go through his soul and erase all sorrow._

Just the thought that he would never feel this happiness again tore his heart a little more.

 _Whenever he saw him, he was reading a book or sat at the table of "his laboratory". He liked to call it laboratory. With a screwdriver in his hand, he disassembled every device he found in the landfill. He was fascinated about the accuracy of his movements, and about the feeling of knowing what he was doing, though it was just a mess of nuts for him. He pressed his lips together and took out the tongue at one side, as a concentration gesture. When he finally understood how that mechanism worked, he rose his arms and shout due to his excitement. Then I looked at him with a huge smile, showing the diastema that had gone with him since his first years._

 _He nodded, proud of having someone so special, so singular in his family, just like him._

He would leave his last heart beat to have the chance of seeing one more of his inventions. Just one more, to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him he would always be there to support him.

 _It seemed it was yesterday when he fell into cold water. He was about to die of hypothermia that night. His father and brothers' voices sounded like echoes in the distance. He only felt ice and cold inside._

 _But then he felt something that wrapped him softly. It was warm, beating, like a flame standing up against any adversity. He recovered his consciousness gradually. He was laid on the bed, and it hugged him firmly. As he was numb, it took him some time for him to understand that it had stayed there to warm him. He had his eyes strongly closed. Occasionally, it whispered his name, begging him to stay in the living world, not to die._

 _He had never been someone who pretended to look like looking for mercy. He wasn't outspoken, and least of all intelligent. Nevertheless, he would never leave you, being always with there, guarding your back, ready to take all the damage needed to save his loved ones._

If he could, he would have cried. The only thing he did was curling up even more. It was now, more than any other time, when he needed his hug. An affection not so intense as his younger brother's one, but firmer, more determined, which would never change no matter what happen. He also loved his other brother, but he was different. There were moments when it seemed that both of them were pieces of the same soul, connected far beyond any physical attachment.

And his father…

"No. I can't" His heart was no longer able to stand it. Too much pain inside.

All those memories were been secluded by those injuries, the blood and the fear. He hugged himself firmly, feeling the crusts of those deep injuries with his fingertips. It wasn't the first time that he wished he was dead to get together with his family.

"Did you suffer? Was it painful?" wondered silently. He knew nobody would answer him, but just the thought of them suffering a slow painful death was unbearable. "I hope that, wherever you are, you'll be happy" He tried to smile, but while trying it his chapped lips started to bleed again. He clenched his fists and bit them, holding a sob.

He couldn't. He couldn't stand it anymore. He had to finish it all up.

"I only want to see you again" He wished with his heart bleeding.

Leonardo. He was Leonardo. He remembered who he was.

"It doesn't matter who I am if there isn't any loved one around me"

Darkness surrounded him again. Was he dreaming or it is finally time for the Death to wrap him with its arms?

A deep fear covered each centimetre of his body and soul.

"No…No…NO! I don't want to die!" He shouted in vain. He sank gradually, increasingly, in a profound pool. It was stifling and cruel, as the destiny that had taken away his family from him before revelling in the remains of his soul

"Mikey, Donnie, Raph, father…" He whispered, dying, as it was a prayer. "Please, I want to see them again"

I don't want to die alone…

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi there, everyone! Here you have the prologue of "4" in English! I finished it long time ago, but I haven´t upload it until now. I had some problems which needed to be solve. I must thank (again) this _special friend of mine_ who lent me a hand with the translation. Again, English isn´t my mother tongue, and I have a serious lack on writing skill. Furthermore, I feel I lose a big part of my style at the time to write it in English, but I do as much as I can.

Well... what are your first impressions about it? Do you want to read more? I´ll be willing to read your reviews. I´ll translate as fast as I can, but it´s hard for me and I am really slow.

See ya!

Regards.

Jomagaher.


	2. Abandoned (D-I)

_People need to know that they are not alone, that they have not been abandoned; but that there is One Who loves them for what they are, Who cares about them_

Dada Vaswani

 **\- CHAPTER 1. ABANDONED -**

It was dark everywhere. He was standing there, in that wasteland valley with a greyish fog crawling towards him to caress his feet. His breath escaped from his mouth until it disappeared, until it became nothing. He covered his face with his hands and let his breath embrace him. It was cold, too cold.

 _"How is he?"._ A voice whose origin was uncertain made his inners shiver. He turned around really fast, like trying to find the source of that voice. It seemed to come out from nowhere. Was it asking him? Something told him it wasn't.

 _"His health condition is worsening._ _The infection hasn't subsided yet"._ Someone answered and once again he couldn't determine the source of the voice. " _He has high fever and doesn't seem to be able to recover his consciousness…"_

Were they talking about him?

 _"It seems that the injuries from the run over are already healed"._ It was the first voice who talked again. Then he noticed something in front of him. It was just one moment but it was also very sudden. "A caress". He blinked, surprised as he move his hand to cover his face again. Where was he? What was that feeling?. " _Poor thing. It must have been really horrible…"_

The fog was covering him slowly. He looked to everywhere, helpless, as the visibility was extremely weakened. He tried to move, but he couldn't…

* * *

 _Leonardo looked at them with a strong determination. He was in front of the emergency exit of The Shelter. There was a door behind it from whose slits smoke was getting into the place. Their home's burning and the danger is upon them at any moment._

 _"Leo, What's become of Splinter?". Raphael was by his side, putting his hand on Leo's shoulder. The older brother turned his face as silent tears crossed his cheeks._

 _"We four can't escape together", replied instead. "Someone has to stay back and buy some time for the others…"_

"No" thought while taking his hands to his head "No! NO!"

An endless stream of questions and feelings started to mix up. He'd want to have held his brother by his shoulders and shouted him that he was being a bad leader. He'd want to hug him and never let him go.

"We're siblings. If any of us stay back, everyone does."

"How do you dare to talk about that?"

"Don't leave us, Leo, don't go"

What was that for? What have they done to deserve that?

 _He felt someone pulling him till the exit. Raphael. Michaelangelo was also being pulled by his older brother. He couldn't stop crying and shouting the name of Leonardo with a hoarse voice because of the terrible fear. He spread his arms to reach him, but Leo, like not hearing his younger brother's sobs, turned around to fight what was about to come. This would be the last memory of his leader, his friend and his brother. His firmness, his brachial muscles tightening as he drew his katanas. His silhouette in contrast to the fire devouring the door that kept them safe from the misery…_

* * *

He woke up.

White was the first thing he could see. He blinked quickly, with watery eyes because of the intense color. He slightly was recovering his vision, like a camera out of focus trying to get it back.

A ceiling. An unknown ceiling.

The next thing he felt was his own heartbeat, pounding rhythmic like a warm impulse that crashed against his chest from inside and spread all along his thorax. It infused life and heat in him.

He inhaled and his lungs started to work again. This feel, the air crossing his entire body, revitalized him but it caused him a mild pain. He was alive. He didn't know why but it didn't matter, he was alive.

He was lying on his back. Now that he was recovering his consciousness he felt a thin white sheet covering his clavicle softly. In addition, he felt light since he wasn't wearing those sickening clothes that he wore during the last moment before losing consciousness.

He tried to move his left arm, but it was strangely stiff. Then he tried the same with his right arm. His fingers hardly respond, but, with some effort, he could crawl on the mattress to reach the headboard and sit up.

The sheet fell gently from his chest to his lap. At that moment, he noticed how a nightshirt (obviously white) covered a part of his arms. The visible part of the skin was strangely pale. Donatello realized how skinny he was. He was never muscular, but if he observed closely, he could make out the relief of the elbow.

Since when hasn't he eaten anything?

 _The rotten apple fell to his feet as he rummages in the trash. As it was a really precious treasure, he leap on it and held it between his hands. A drop of blood spoiled his loot. His fingers were covered in tiny injuries caused by the sharp objects with which he had cut as he tried to find something to eat desperately: bottles, syringes… he knew those objects would probably be infected and that he would get sick, but it didn't matter. Actually, he was probably sick yet. That morning, when he woke up, he found himself spoiled by the diarrhea and blood. He was so weak that he didn't even worry about it. He was just like a hollow shell. His survival instinct was the only thing moving him, but he would have liked to die much time ago._

 _He gulped. Even that caused him an infinite pain. He knew everything around him was repulsive. To begin with, the stink of his own disposals chased him wherever he was._

 _Fruit was partially bitten, showing a yellowish pulp turning black. He held it in his trembling hands and he was going to take it to his mouth full of sores when a worm showed his head tentatively._

 _He stopped, looking at the worm. A part of him that had almost disappeared, remembered something from a book about the Helminths, just one word:_

" _Proteins"_

 _It was very direct, just one bite and the worm head was gone._

He retched, closed his eyes strongly and tilted his head. Bile was climbing his throat, but he could control himself before throwing up.

What happened those days? He remembered it and didn't remember it at the same time. It was so close and so far at the same time…

He clenched his teeth and held a sob. He was likely to cry, but his heart was hollow.

 _What have I become?_

The feeling of his hands on his face made him able to calm for a moment. He shook his head, like trying to forget those memories. Reality hit him like a hammer once again: he was all alone, abandoned to his own fate. There was nobody to hug him when he felt bad. No more mornings he would wake up accompanied. You could feel loneliness in the air between those four walls.

He looked at his surroundings. The stretcher on which he was lying was in one corner. There were no windows. There was a rectangular-shaped table with two chairs in the middle of the room. Just above, on the ceiling, a white light brightened all of the room. In front of it, the door stayed ajar. It took a little time for Donatello to identify the adjacent room as a bathroom.

He looked to the right, like waiting to find just a wall…

And there was someone with him.

It made him wince and shrugged on the bed, all scared. He was about to open his mouth in a gesture of terror.

"No", he thought. "It's not a human"

The picture of his own reflection nodded milimetrically, not being so sure yet. metres mirror was in the centre of the room. Slowly, like he still thought it could be a trap, his breath is getting normal again.

He looked at himself but He couldn't think fast yet. It was him, but it wasn't him at the same time. His head had the same shape as always. His brown eyes looked back at him carefully, like they were scarred by the fear. He could even recognize the diastema of his denture, visible through his partially opened mouth.

But it wasn't him.

He took one of his hands to his cheek, holding his breath. It was cleft, the jaw was almost visible. He could notice rings under his eyes crossing his eyelids from some days. Actually, he had a black eye but he couldn't remember how he got that, which seemed to be recent. He looked so weak, so vulnerable, so _miserable…_

He looked down, not being able to assimilate that. He couldn't accept the fact that the little innocent inventor full of faith had almost disappeared. Those days (or maybe months?) had taken away everything.

 _Where am I?_

Then he noticed the reason why his left arm was kind of stiff. A little tube climbed from the bend of his elbow to a transparent bag hanging on a rack. It contained a watery fluid dropping slowly through the tube to enter his body. The chelonian squinted his eyes trying to read the tag hanging on the bag.

"Ringer`s Solution"(*)

That reminded him something he read from a Medicine book. As far as he could remember, it was a serum to recover dehydrated patients…

"Then… am I a patient?" he thought hardly. "What happened? How did I get here?"

He felt more cleared and used that strength to sit at the edge of the bed. He could see his bare feet and an electric stream crossed his spinal cord when he felt the cold touch of the floor. He looked at his toes and tried to move them. There seemed to exist response. He bit his lower lip and supported himself on both arms. The stress on his muscle when he got up was like a burn scorching his body for some seconds. For a moment, he was on the verge of losing his balance, but he was able to maintain posture in the last moment. Nevertheless, as he noticed his legs were trembling, he got close to a wall and supported his shoulder on it.

Then he looked at the light brown shelf near him. It was small, and at that moment it was empty. Except for the third rack, which contained a book. He didn't know the reason, but it aroused his curiosity.

He didn't see himself strong enough to crouch or to jump, so he was grateful to the book for being at his height. He had to move a bit the rack with the serum to get to the book. His hands trembled a little, but he could hold the book.

It was a quite old book. Not too big, but old. He caressed its cover, whose edges were eroded. However, he could still recognize the title.

"THE UGLY DUCKLING" by Hans Christian Andersen.

"I also love that story. I think it's really encouraging, don't you think so?"

Donatello felt like he had a little heart attack while he turned around at the human that had appeared there. The human looked at him with a smile, slightly inclined towards him.

He dropped the book resoundingly and felt how his pupils dilated while he touched the wall with his back and defend himself with his shivering arms. During the fall he felt the tube detaching, which caused him more pain.

He covered his face with his arms. His heart pounded like it was going to get out of the thorax smashing it at any moment.

A human. An actual human. He was real, _real._

Fear took control of every part of him. If his skin was human, he would have become pale really fast.

After all, humans had torn apart his family.

"Hey, calm down, buddy", the man looked at him with surprised green eyes while he extended his hand gently as a pacific gesture to reach out the turtle. He talked slowly, staying calm. "I'm not going to hurt you…"

Donatello's arms stopped shivering, but he was still nervous. He raised his sight and looked at the man as carefully as possible. Something about the voice…

"I'm here to help you". took his hand to the chest. All of his gestures were slow and cautious, keeping the visual contact at every moment. "I'm your friend. It is I who took you here".

The chelonian kept silent, but his shoulders showed he was a bit more relaxed. Nevertheless, he was still keeping the distance.

"Why aren't you scared of me?", wondered the young turtle. "Can't you see what I am? A shattered monster…"

You've been unconscious for a week. You were very sick when we found you and you weren't going to survive for a long time. I'm sorry for taking your clothes off but they were too filthy— he concluded, tilting his head. The man took a step towards the young one, who gulped.

 _What do you want? What do you want from me?_

"I want the best for you", he answered, as he could read his mind. The man spread his arms. "See? If I sought something else, I wouldn't act like that". He took another step, getting to just one metre away from the young one. "However, all of this is futile if you don't trust me". Spread his hand to him. A callous hand from the typical middle age man. "Can you get up?"

Donatello looked at the hand and the face of the man alternatively. A red beard covered part of his face. His hair, also reddish, was short and perfectly trimmed. A crown started to stick in the upper part of his head.

But the most astonishing thing was his eyes. They were full of an infinite affection. He didn't understand. They had just met, he was _what he was;_ and nonetheless…

He raised his hand slowly. What was he doing? It could be a trap. However, he was tired. Tired of living a life to which he hadn't find its meaning.

 _He was hidden behind a bin while seeing scared how some lowlifes were thrashing and old homeless man. The moonlight lighted their figures up. Their gloomy smiles stood out in the dark, making them look like real predators._

 _"C'mon, old gag, scream!", Shouted one of the, after hitting his head particularly strong._

 _"It's not moving; bro…", said another one touching the blackish leg of the old man with the tip of his bat. The man didn't even clinch._

 _"Fuck it, it's not fun anymore", the third one got away and lighted a cigar. While he lighted it up he realized Donatello was there. "Hey, look, another one's here!", Shouted to his mates. The thug outlined a ghoulish smile while getting closer to the turtle. "What's with that scarf around your face? Look at those pretty eyes; you want to play a game to know each one better?"_

 _The chelonian throw the bin in the middle of the alley and ran away without turning back. He was alone, completely alone. He could smell death's stink passing through him slowly, but not stopping._

 _That death possibility made him run faster, running for his life._

The touch of the man was loving, but firm at the same time. The warm feeling crossed Donatello's arm like a stream. When it reached his heart, it exploded into a thousand pieces.

He cried, dropping all the tears he had held till then. He was in shock, trying really hard to get the air to his lungs while sobbing. With his other hand, he took the man's hand and approaches it to him. He wanted to cling to something, no matter what it was. He felt helpless, weak and abandoned.

He felt an arm getting around his shoulders. That simple gesture was enough to melt his strength. He released all of his tension and stress, supporting his body against the man, who hugged him against his chest. It was tight, but not too much to make him feel overwhelmed or trapped.

Don't worry, you can cry as much as you want— Patted his head— you're safe now.

He lost track of time, but not only that. He also lost track of who he was, what he was doing there, or who was the man that saved his life. For a moment, he forgot about the loneliness, about the possibility of his siblings and father to be dead.

Everything he had was that feeling of unconditional acceptance by the hand of that man. He never thought he could have something like that. He never thought that a human could give him the love he was lacking for so long.

* * *

"I'm getting something for you to eat. It's very important that you recover now."

Donatello didn't answer. Instead, he nodded he covered himself with the sheet. He tried to talk before but something prevented him from doing so.

"Don't worry. Sometimes, after a traumatic impression, people may temporarily lose their ability to speak", explained serenely. Right after, the man patted his head. The chelonian, in a reflex action, was about to push his hand aside, but he could control his instinct. "I know you understand me, I can see it in your look", he got up from the bed's edge and went to a specific point next to the mirror. "In due course, we'll see what we can do to find your family."

The young one raised his head, surprised.

"When you had fever you didn't stop whispering their names". He looked at the ceiling, trying to remember. "Leo, Raph, Mikey… are they humans?"

The young turtle nodded while looking to another place.

"Do you know where they could be?".

 _We ran and each one followed his own path._

He wasn't strong enough to bring up the subject. Not yet.

The man seemed to understand it. He looked at the wall again and touched it. A hidden door slightly opened.

"That's how he came out from nowhere"

"By the way!" exclaim, turning again to the young one. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Kirby O'neil, psychologist". After a little reverence, he added in a lovely tone. "But you can call me Kirby."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello! After all this time, I am here again with the English version of "4". I hope you liked it, and if you have anything to say I´d be willing to answer al of your questions. This translation couldn´t have been possible without my dear friend **Alisem Blacktrad,** who did a wonderful job maintaining my narrative style while translating it to English. He´s just become a professional translator, but he has yet to find an artistic name. This one he told me to provide you is provisional. As long as he can, he´ll keep on translating this fic. He has already begun with the next one, but it´ll probably take a while till it´s ready.

Thanks for reading!

Regards

Jomagaher.


	3. Animal (R-I)

_Man is the cruelest animal_

Friedrich Nietzsche

 **\- CHAPTER 2. ANIMAL –**

The merciless sun bathed the mob congregated in the town square, facing the improvised stage. This was built before the noon, since the high temperature would have made this task much harder, much more suffocating. However, animals didn't arrive till the very afternoon. They were nervous in their cages because they could do nothing against those human eyes looking at them inquisitive and eager. Some of them growled and even chewed the bars in vain.

He stopped fighting some time ago. Memories were cruel; he could remember all and each one of the moments since they captured him. He wasn't what he was anymore and he became something very simple: scum. He stared at one point on the floor, like a lifeless puppet. He preferred the rusted surface of the metal to the surface of his own limbs full of scars. A crepuscular cape caressed his figure...

* * *

"Let me out! LET ME OUT!", he hit the cage as strong as he could. Animals around him started to screech and roar. Nobody could assure if it was night or day between those four walls. He was there when he woke up, in a small place where he could hardly stand up. The oppressive darkness made his heart pound out of control, even more when the other animals started to screech too.

Where was he? What was he doing there?

"Shut the fuck up!", a deep voice quivered at his left. He heard something caressing the floor like a snake while some slow but firm steps resounded far away. Nevertheless, they didn't stop growling. "I've told you to shut up!" He saw a silver flash in the dark that cracked rudely, followed by a screech. That scream full of an infinite pain silenced the rest of the animals immediately. Then only stillness filled the room, interrupted by a dense splash, like it was…

A human appeared in his field of vision, a tall muscled man. He was dress like a military: camouflage trousers, dark boots and a white tank top showing his biceps as big as heads.

"So you're the troublemaker, eh?", the soldier talked in a sardonic tone, with his hands on his waist. The grooves of his face were getting tenser and tenser with every gesture. "I thought you'd never wake up. We gave you a too high dose of the drug. You really are a resistant specimen".

He rushed into the bars of the cage and grabbed them with every piece of his strength.

"Get me out of here", spitted out, without getting scared.

"I didn't know you could speak!", exclaimed kind of surprised. However, he stood right where he was. "I don't know which dump you escaped from, but it doesn't matter. You're merchandise, just the same as these pigs. Aren't you wondering where this stink come from?"

He got pale. "Were they trapped that much time?", wondered, holding the terror escaping from his heart. "Where the heck did they locked me?"

"I'm not merchandise", said he firmly, though everyone could notice some traces of fear in his voice. His fists trembled a little.

The man laughed out loud.

"If you weren't merchandise, you wouldn't be here. Besides, if you wanted to escape, you would have to walk a long way."

"What?"

It took time for him to answer and he did it with a sadist smile on his face

"We are no longer in New York. We're half way to the paradise for black market traffickers. There are simple rules there. Since those idiots sold your head for just five hundred bucks you became nothing, the last thing that matters. But don't worry; I'll make sure that a strange thing like you is sold in an auction for a good price."

There was a sequence of images in his head: his feet and hands were tied up while a man shackled his head; the taste of blood from his mouth. And…

And…

 _Mikey._

He bit his lower lip so strong that he started to bleed. No. He wasn't going to cry. Not in front of him. He didn't even cried in front of his siblings, and that wouldn't be the first time. He must be strong. He must be strong for…

"For whom?"

"It's ok, let's play a game". Without saying anything else, the man retraced his steps and opened one of the cages. Then the young turtle heard how he dragged something. He had a terrible hunch, but a part of him was afraid of realizing it could be true. The soldier stopped for a moment and powered a switch. A white light bulb turned on, making the captive blink. Then he saw what was in the middle of the lighted circle.

A brood spoiled the floor with its blood. Although it was lying on the ground, it was still alive, since it was breathing and hardly moved its head. It couldn't open its eyes, since its face was marked by a…

"Whip", finished the man. "A really efficient weapon. Look how everyone shut when I used this little one", he continued explaining while spreading the brood on the ground. Its scourges let some drop of bloods escape. "An Iberian lynx. Twenty thousand dollars. A good amount, you think, right? but it's nothing. I can make that money with you and everyone here. If there is one more or one less of you, it doesn't matter…"

"No", whispered, horrified. One part of him wished to have let his anger take control, that he had hit that man, who deserved it. After all, he didn't care. He was always strong. He would never let the man see him crying. But that was another thing.

"Yes", he answered, with a smile on his lips. "It's nothing more than a money source. I can earn it by many other ways."

"He did nothing! I was the one who shouted!". His heart pounded strongly against his chest. He was always a rebel, and he accepted it, but he also took ownership.

He didn't want to shoulder any more deaths.

"If I had shut up, that wouldn't have happened. They would be still alive, still alive!", thought desperately.

"It's not important, like you", sentenced the trafficker a little angry. He tensed the whip. "I can do everything I want with you. It is _mine_ and so you are. Everything here is mine. And now I want you to see what happens if you oppose me."

He raised his weapon and the silence was interrupted by the sound of the flesh striped apart from the body.

The animals started to screech again while Raphael's heart cracked up even more.

* * *

It was weird. Now that he could feel all those human eyes looking at him from below the platform, he felt naked. He never felt the need of wearing clothe, but they took his bandana, his knee pads, his sais, everything. He was as helpless as any of the animals with which he shared that infernal journey. For a moment, he felt the lashing again, the look of that brood of lynx while exhaling its last breath. The cage in which he was trapped was cleaned by high pressure water through a hose (he was inside); but till then the cage was full of fluids and other things he couldn't hold anymore.

Some other men raised the cage at his left. There was a drugged tiger in that cage, which was sold in the auction to the highest bidder and was being transported with his new owner. He half-heard the murmurs of town's people, related to the exorbitant price of that piece…

He started thinking about his family again. He closed his eyes while detaching himself from the sickening stink. The abuses engraved in his retina were taken to the background while he slowed his own heartbeat.

Yes. He could visualize that. They look at him from far away. They waved to him with a smile in their lips. Mikey was jumping for joy and shouting something, but he couldn't hear it.

"I wish I had told Leo to stay together", he regretted again. They could have escaped together so the destiny won't have played with them like they were toys. With him.

"Maybe Donnie is still alive", reasoned with a trace of hope.

"The old metro exit", he proposed that day, when they were all together in the wagon. The light of some flashlights got through the windows. They would find them soon. "If we meet there, we can get out of the sewer before they find us. It'll be harder for them to catch us if we separate."

"Why did I say that?" He flexed his knees and covered his face with his arms. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. He was strong, tough.

Would his tears bring his brothers back? Leonardo probably died while trying to buy them time. In case that Donnie reached the exit, he wouldn't survive much time in the streets. He was always physically weaker. Without his protection, the world would beat him.

And Mikey…

"I'm sorry". He shook his head. He wasn't crying. He wasn't crying. "I'm so sorry."

The trafficker took silent steps and got next to Raphael's cage, hitting it abruptly. The turtle tensed his muscles and stood up. A crowd, most of it formed by dark skin people, stared at him simultaneously. They did that before. After all, oddness like him didn't go unnoticed. He supposed it was his turn to be sold in the auction because of the tone of the man's voice. He spoke in an unknown language, but he could hear some words likely to mean "demon", "monster".

He ended up his paraphernalia with a question toned sentence, looking at all the crowd. For a moment, people kept silent, but someone shouted out loud, and one collective voice joined up. Their looks were full of eagerness, greed, and possession. He could hear unrecognizable words coming from their drooling mouths. That shout lost among the crowd was nothing more that the spark that ignited the explosion expecting to destroy every trace of reasoning to the unknown. And the trafficker smiled satisfied with that depravity. The price of Raphael's head raised rocketed.

Because it was true. Now he was just an odd thing, something that could be exchanged for a measurable amount. His father told them everytime that every creature in the world is unique in its way, and so it deserves respect. Donnie said that there had to be a way of quantifying life's value.

"You're too young to understand it now", answered his father while patting Mikey's head. "But when you grow up and become so wise as me, you will understand that every one of you is irreplaceable."

"You lied", concluded to himself. "If you could see this. One of your sons is being sold like an object. Where is the unique value in life? Tell me, where is it?"

"Four hundred thousand dollars!", someone shouted among the crowd. Raphael's fingers flinched a little. That person spoke in English.

The mob kept quiet. People at one side of the mob separated, leaving space around the person who let out that exorbitant number. So was the silence that everyone could hear the wind whispering among the tree tops nearby.

"Did I hear well?", the trafficker cocked his head, skeptic to that daring.

The individual at hand took some steps towards the stage. Some wrinkles crossed his tanned middle-age face, but he was athletic. Despite the high temperature, he wore an eccentric purple suit with a black shirt. As a kind of cape, he wore what was likely a white tiger skin. He held in his hand a lighted cigar. He combed carefully his own hair while getting to just one meter from Raphael. Time seemed to be frozen when they looked at each other. The man took his cigar to his mouth and inhaled deeply. Then, with a smile in his mouth, he threw the smoke to the chelonian, who coughed as he felt the tar flavor in his mouth.

"Four hundred thousand for the panther on the corner, the Bengal tiger and this… little one", answered naturally. But he stared at Raphael the whole time. He didn't take his eyes away.

The trafficker blinked, very surprised. He doubted for a moment before asking if anyone could offer a better price for that special batch.

A stony silence.

"You will be satisfied. My life is so miserable that it has to be sold in a prescindible batch. I can't be sold alone."

"At the count of three: one…"

He tried to delay the bid as much as possible so as to see if he could earn more from three pests like those.

"Two…"

The turtle couldn't see anything good or bad from that man's eyes. He was a complete uncertainty.

"The panther, the tiger and the monster for the man in the purple suit!", the trafficker exclaimed. Raphael couldn't see him from where he was, but he assured that the man said that with a big smile in his mouth.

* * *

The journey in the truck was a real torture. The darkness, the nervous roars of the animals near him and the truck swinging remembered him when he stayed in a boat. He could almost hear the trafficker cleaning the whip, which was spoiled with his blood.

 _You're MY pet, and as you are, you have to do whatever I order you. Maybe I'll hit you softer that way…_

But he was strong, strong enough to resist that.

 _Come on, scream! I want to hear you screaming!_

He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't crying.

Like it was a rest, the truck suddenly stopped. The other kept quiet, expectant. Then he heard some steps coming towards the back doors of the truck, which were opened.

The same men who took the cages into the truck raised the cages by its sides. The night sky seemed to open for Raphael, and with it, a new outlook.

A house rose far away. "Mansion" was a better name for that, as he had taken a look at one of the Donnie's books. A mansion with so many gardens and ponds. For a moment he remembered one of the occasions when Splinter told them stories about his old Clan. One could sit in front of a lake and hear the water melody flowing among the reeds…

A hit on the floor took him back to reality. A pair of torches strategically situated lighted the entrance. Next to this was something still in construction, still without a definite form.

"Welcome to my humble abode", the man in purple suit had taken off the tiger skin. The upper buttons of the black shirt were unbuttoned, showing part of his smooth skinned chest. The short combed hair didn't move an inch when a cold wind crossed through their figures. Raphael couldn't help but shiver, a gesture that the man could notice. "I hope your stay here will be a pleasure for you". The chelonian didn't answer. The smile of the man flinched a little, but his voice was still friendly. "You know what? You aroused my interest since the first moment. You're intelligent; I can see it in your eyes. I know you understand me and I know you can speak my language."

He clenched his fists. He wasn't going to satisfy his master.

"His master?", he repeated surprised to himself. Maybe, without even notice it, was he truly assuming his status as a pet?

"Stay calm. I'm not going to hurt you", he explained with hand extended in peace. "I consider each one of you unique and special, and as it is, you are worth some value. A value that can't be bought with money."

Raphael blinked, confused, and he sought the eyes of the man for the first time. However, he was focused on the tiger.

"The cycle of life, a very strange concept. Your life may end in a flash or slowly agonizing. Then the value of your essence gets to zero", murmured for himself. He was frowned, like he was thinking about something inherent in his own essence. "But that's not all". His eyes were shining as he looked back at Raphael. "Death, fear, certainty about this breath being the last one", he was talking faster and faster. "Blood spoiling the ground, guts being devoured by scavengers. We, who know the value of those last moments of the creepy-crawlies, understand that nothing from him is more valuable than that. Their imploring screeches, the sound of flesh being torn apart, the sparkle of their eyes about to extinguish.". He extended his arms while smiling to the point of almost reaching madness. "Do you understand? Those images, those screeches… they make you feel what they feel. The adrenalin speed your heartbeat and your breath. The same of those creepy-crawlies."

Raphael hit the bars of the cage with his back. He didn't know when he began to tremble.

"I can't flag. I'm strong, I'm strong…", he whispered for himself as he was imploring. But the fear, the _true_ fear, made him unable to stay firm. The only thing he could do is cringing and getting as far as possible from that monster in human skin.

"What do you want?!", exclaimed at the end.

The man smiled and took his time to answer. He got close to the cage of the Bengal tiger without taking his eye off of him. He enjoyed the expression of the chelonian while he was tangling up his words.

"Here's our friend, the Bengal tiger. Its agility is remarkable. You can be between its claws in a moment and you wouldn't even notice it. It can break your thorax with just one hit. In other words, it's a really exceptional predator". The man went the distance between him and Raphael's cage and crouched in front of it. He rested his hands on the bars and approached his face as much as he could. The young one cringed even more, but that only deepened the expectation of the man. "I already said this. I consider each one of you unique and special". After a pause, he added pointing at the building near them. "Do you see that? It's an arena. There I can enjoy the pleasures of death. I wonder how much time you would last against a beast like that. It will be an unforgettable show."

Raphael understood it, while holding his breath, horrified.

He was a kid, after all. And he had nothing to hold on in a world like that.

He promised he wouldn't cry; that he will be strong. But now he had no one worth resisting for, no reason to resist the misery he was living.

" **I'm dead."**

And he cried.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks again to **Alisem Blacktrad** for the translation of the chapter. I hope you liked it. Have a great summer.

Regards.

Jomagaher.


End file.
